


Neither Affirm Nor Deny

by Oilan



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, For Science!, Gen, Ghost Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:39:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1831519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oilan/pseuds/Oilan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre affirmed nothing, not even miracles; denied nothing, not even ghosts. However, the existence of the latter might just be testable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neither Affirm Nor Deny

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [crazyinjune](http://crazyinjune.tumblr.com) and [takethewatch](http://takethewatch.tumblr.com/) for the beta reads!

April in Paris was a beautiful time of year, the spring weather bringing to life the flowers in the gardens and seemingly causing the residents to bloom as well. The one problem with the season was sudden and unpredictable rain, which easily soaked the populace who ventured outside to enjoy the weather in the first place.

Enjolras and Combeferre, on their way back to their rooms after delivering a set of pamphlets to their new printshop, found themselves caught in one such deluge. Luckily enough, Enjolras realized they were only a few blocks east of the Corinthe wine shop, and he took Combeferre’s wrist to tug him in the right direction. Once there, they traipsed upstairs, slightly bedraggled; it was just past midday and they hadn’t eaten yet in any case. They would no doubt find some of their law student friends skipping class there as well, and as expected, they immediately spotted Courfeyrac playing billiards with some other students. Combeferre held up a hand in greeting, and Courfeyrac gave them a look filled with both cheer and sympathy.

“Ah friends, are you all right? You’re soaked through! Why were you out in the rain instead of in here with me to begin with – Oh.” He must have remembered the pamphlets. “Well, never mind. Wait for five minutes and I’ll order us some lunch- once I win this game!”

It took a mere two minutes for Courfeyrac to lose spectacularly and join the other two at their table. After ordering their meals, Courfeyrac leaned forward to avoid being overheard.

“Well, did everything go all right? You weren’t followed from the printshop? You’re sure we can trust this new one?”

“Yes, everything went smoothly. The copies should be ready in two day’s time.”

“And hopefully there won’t be a police watch placed on _this_ shop. Honestly, I’m still regretting not being able to use the Girard’s place anymore; they were discreet even if their customers weren’t and the print quality was good.” Combeferre was frowning as he spoke, carefully going through the books in his satchel to check for water damage from the rain. “Well, this new place seems decent enough. We’ll just have to see-“

“Wait. What is _this_?” Combeferre looked up from the bag in his lap to see Courfeyrac turning over one of the slightly damp books he had placed on the table. “ _Le Livre des Esprits_ by Allan Kardec. Combeferre!” Courfeyrac laughed. “Oh, I remember my governess telling my sisters and me the most entertaining stories when I was a child. Spirits and fairies and all that sort of thing. But please don’t tell me you believe in ghosts!”

“No. Well…“ Combeferre sighed. “The thing is, they haven’t been proven nor disproven and while I acknowledge that it is exceptionally difficult to _disprove_ something, many people claim to have seen ghosts. My youngest sister, for instance, swears she saw the spirits of the Montgolfier brothers walking in the hills behind our house.” Combeferre frowned. “Admittedly, she was four at the time and I had just finished telling her the story of my namesake, but my point still stands.”

Enjolras hid a fond smile as the server brought their meal. Courfeyrac was chuckling affectionately as he poured out wine for Combeferre and himself. “And let me guess. You, unable to resist the potential knowledge to be gained, set out immediately to investigate your baby sister’s claims?”

Combeferre gave him a wry smile. “Unfortunately, no. It would have been quite interesting, however.” He seemed to lapse into thought. “Yes, quite interesting. How would one go about investigating something like ghosts? Would science as we know it be able to identify them, or would they, being apparently supernatural, need to be detected through less conventional means?” He broke off, looking at Courfeyrac and Enjolras dryly. “The two of you may think this is ridiculous, but I should really like to conduct an investigation somehow. Someday. How else may knowledge be gained, after all?”

Enjolras smiled fully this time, and inclined his head towards Combeferre. “You’ve said this before, and you are right, of course. The acquisition of knowledge will only further advance humanity; the future depends on its expansion. If you would like to investigate this, then you should.”

“Yes, and there is no time like the present to realize your dreams,” Courfeyrac said brightly. “Paris is an old city, and simply rife with tales of shades of the dead walking amongst the living. The question is where to focus your attention.”

The three men went silent, attempting to think of a suitable location.

“The Louvre is supposedly haunted,” Combeferre mused after a moment. “Particularly where the dungeons were located when it was first built-“

Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to break into the Louvre _at night_ to go poking around for ghosts?”

“No, of course not,” Combeferre muttered, though he deflated slightly, as though a part of him had been seriously considering it. “It would have to be somewhere easy to enter. Minimum law enforcement hanging about.”

They thought for another moment, and then Courfeyrac smacked his hand onto the table in revelation. “Ah! I’ve got it! Lesgles was just telling me some story - I’m a little hazy on the source; we had a bit to drink, you see – _but the Jardin des Tuileries_! Bossuet mentioned the Red Man, or some such thing. You know, hired murderer for Catherine de Medici, but she had him killed too and now he haunts the garden?”

“Jean l’écorcheur. The tale isn’t exactly unknown, Courfeyrac.”

“He said Marie Antoinette saw the ghost before her beheading! And Louis XVIII before his death just eight years ago. _And_ Bonaparte saw it before he was defeated at Waterloo. Isn’t that something!”

“Is all of that even true?”

“Well, do you have any better ideas? The gardens will be empty after dark. If a gendarme decides to appear instead of a ghost, it will be easy to run away. It doesn’t involve breaking into a fortress-turned-museum.”

“Yes, all right.” Combeferre had noticeably perked up. “I will admit, it is an interesting story to investigate.”

“A thrilling tale of intrigue, murder, and betrayal. It’s perfect! When shall we go, then? I have no engagements tonight, if you can believe it!”

“Sorry but, ‘we’?”

“Of course. You didn’t expect us not to join in on this adventure, or let you be arrested while you are too distracted with looking for spirits to notice the gendarme sneaking up behind you. Enjolras, you’re coming too, I don’t care how many letters or articles you have to write. You don’t do nearly as many foolish things as you should; it’s unhealthy.”

Enjolras, indeed, was about to protest anyway, when the nagging feeling that leaving Combeferre, excited and distracted by the investigation, and Courfeyrac, who would no doubt be overly enthusiastic about dabbling in the supernatural, alone together was a very bad idea. This was not even considering the eager look Combeferre was giving him; it was too endearing and he found he couldn’t say no. He sighed to himself, resigned.

“Oh, very well. What time, and where?”

 

* * *

 

Later that night it was still drizzling, and Courfeyrac found Enjolras standing alone under a streetlamp at the easternmost corner of the Jardin des Tuileries, holding aloft a large black umbrella. Courfeyrac approached him, eyeing the umbrella with a mixture of distain and amusement.

“An umbrella! Really, Enjolras, I didn’t think you could be any more unfashionable.” He stiffened with mock indignation.

Enjolras smiled slightly at that, eyeing Courfeyrac’s damp frockcoat and hat. “Unfashionable, yet dry.”

“Not to mention, it’s terribly English. And of course it is black. To match your coat and trousers. You are a lost cause, my friend; I’ve given up all hope for you!”

“That is probably wise,” Enjolras replied, shifting nearer to Courfeyrac so that the umbrella shielded them both from the rain, and fishing out his pocket watch. “It’s fifteen past the hour. Where is he?”

“No doubt he has found some fascinating insect specimen on the way here and has lost track of the time while examining it.” Courfeyrac paused. “Enjolras… have you ever seen a ghost? Do you even believe in them?”

“No.”

“No, nor me. Wouldn’t it be terribly exciting if we did find one, though? If they do exist?” Courfeyrac grinned mischievously. “I wonder where spirits would fit into our vision of the luminous future Republic.”

Before Enjolras could retort, they heard someone coming up the street behind them, and turning, saw Combeferre jogging up to meet them. He was carrying his satchel and despite being drenched from the rain, looked almost breathlessly excited. When he reached the other two, Combeferre lifted the bag from his shoulders and began rummaging around inside it.

“What kept you?” Courfeyrac asked.

“I couldn’t find my good thermometer. But no matter; this one will have to do.” Combeferre produced the object from his bag and handed it to Courfeyrac. “Hold that for just a moment, would you? And take care! The top end is chipped. We’ll need that to measure any change in the ambient environment; it’s the best I have right now. I’ll be the one to use that, since I’m familiar with reading it. Courfeyrac, take this pad and pencil. You will make note of any temperature differences and the time when I tell you.”

“This is all very scientific!” Courfeyrac laughed, taking the proffered paper and pencil as well. “I didn’t realize ghosts obeyed the natural order.”

Combeferre either failed to notice or outright ignored Courfeyrac’s jest. “I thought the same, actually. That’s why I brought this. Here, Enjolras, you take this. As I was saying earlier, perhaps the supernatural needs a supernatural method of detection.” He handed Enjolras a forked wooden rod. Enjolras shifted the umbrella into the crook of his shoulder and turned the object over in his hands, examining it. Other than its shape, there didn’t seem to be anything unusual about it.

“What is it?”

“A dowsing rod.” Combeferre frowned at it. “The only spirit-hunting tool I managed to procure at such short notice. Distinctly unscientific, I grant you, but it will supposedly detect ground water, minerals, gravesites, ghosts- among other things.” He took Enjolras’ hands and positioned them on the rod. “Grasp an end in each hand like this. According to what I’ve learned about them, it will dip down of its own accord when it finds something. Just try to hold it steady, and let us know if you notice anything. Courfeyrac will write down the time in that event as well; perhaps there will be a correlation with temperature changes. You have your watch with you, right Courfeyrac?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Combeferre reached into his bag again, pulling out a candle and a box of matches.

“A candle?”

“To light our way, since the Tuileries do not have lamps and I don’t own a lantern.”

“It’s raining! It will go out.”

“Luckily, Enjolras has brought an umbrella.” Enjolras gave Courfeyrac a look that bordered on sly as Combeferre closed his bag and retrieved his thermometer. “All right. Once we are inside, we’ll just walk the paths slowly and see what we can find. If you see or hear anything, if the dowsing rod dips, say something aloud and we will record it, along with the time. Courfeyrac, I’m trusting you to be as precise as possible.”

It was a simple matter to hoist themselves over the fence and into the gardens, and once they were all inside Combeferre lit his candle. Enjolras, gripping both ends of the dowsing rod, could no longer hold his umbrella and so handed it to Courfeyrac with the shadow of a smirk on his face. Combeferre held the thermometer close enough to the candle to see the lines, yet far enough away that the heat would not affect the reading.

“Courfeyrac, the initial temperature reading is twelve centesimal degrees. Mark down the time as well, now!”

“Twelve, at 12:27 AM,” Courfeyrac muttered, scribbling. “Now then, shouldn’t we proceed?”

They began walking down the nearest path, meaning to make a circuit of the entire grounds. Courfeyrac, holding the umbrella over the three of them, was absolutely bubbling over with excitement. He linked arms with Enjolras, who, dutifully holding the dowsing rod, was unable to pull away.

“Isn’t this thrilling? I feel as though we are characters in a Romantic story! Three young, handsome heroes-“ Enjolras snorted at this. “-braving darkness and danger in search of uncovering the unknown, _the shades of those who have passed before us_. This is even more exciting than that time Prouvaire and Bahorel persuaded me to attend that Bouzingo party. And with a much smaller chance of me having to chase a goose out of my rooms while hungover.”

“Courfeyrac, what on earth-“ Combeferre broke off and stopped in his tracks, causing Enjolras to walk into him. “Eleven degrees. Mark that down!”

“Oh, that’s hardly a difference! I thought you’d seen something interesting.”

“Precision, Courfeyrac! It may become part of a trend.”

Once the temperature was recorded, they set off again. The rain tapered off. Despite the small temperature change, Enjolras felt chilled, but immediately dismissed the feeling. Perhaps he was just a bit damp from the rain. Still, something about their surroundings seemed strange. Everything looked as it should; he could make out the dark shapes of trees to the left and right, the stretches of grass beneath them, the straight and clear trail ahead. Something was missing, however. Enjolras slowed his pace and the other two looked at him curiously.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t-“ Enjolras shook his head, feeling foolish, but then realized what about the atmosphere seemed different. “Listen!”

The other two paused, Courfeyrac tipping his head in confusion. “I don’t hear a thing.”

“Yes. There is nothing; no noise from the street or wind or crickets. Just nothing.” They stood for a moment, listening again for any sound, but the silence pressed in on them instead. Combeferre seemed to suppress a shudder.

“Well, make a note of that – and the temperature is nine degrees – and then we’ll keep walking.”

They continued on for several more minutes, the dark stillness seeming to become more oppressive with every step, before Courfeyrac let out a quiet gasp that made the other two start. “ _What?_ ”

“Look! What- what is _that_?”

Courfeyrac was staring to the right of the path ahead, leaning forward to peer through the darkness. Enjolras and Combeferre squinted in the direction he was looking, Combeferre shielding the light of the candle with his hand to lessen the glare on his spectacles. After a moment, Enjolras spotted it. There was something moving through the trees, something formless, a shade darker than its surroundings, yet it was too shadowy to make out exactly what it might have been. It was peculiar, Enjolras noted, that they had spotted it at all, the object being so far away, the gardens so dark, and the only light source being their single candle.

The three men watched the object travel towards and then finally onto the trail in front of them. It paused, perhaps thirty meters away, and despite the fact that it was no longer obscured by trees, it was still impossible to identify. After a moment, it began to move again, this time toward where they were standing; Enjolras saw that it was red in color, and seemed to be a mass of shapeless mist. A few seconds later, the form faded into nothing.

The three men stared open-mouthed at the spot where the mist had vanished. Combeferre shook his head as though to clear his thoughts and said, “All right. Well. Write that-“ Courfeyrac gave a surprised yelp before he could finish and the other two whipped around to see Courfeyrac’s hat lifted from his head as though an invisible hand had grabbed it. For one long moment, the hat seemed to hover in front of them.

Then, quick as a flash, Courfeyrac wrenched the dowsing rod out of Enjolras’ grasp and flung it at the hat, followed immediately by the umbrella. Both objects missed, but none of them realized this; they had all turned on their heels and sprinted back the way they had come. They reached the fence and, after pushing each other over it, did not stop running until they had crossed Pont Royal and steered themselves in the general direction of Enjolras’ flat on the Rue des Marais. Enjolras, though he was still feeling rather spooked, could not help but be amused as he watched Courfeyrac gesticulate and splutter incoherently while Combeferre tried to catch his breath while laughing at the same time.

After several minutes, Courfeyrac collected himself enough to say, “Well, Combeferre! By God, you have your answer, don’t you? Now don’t _ever_ ask me to do something like this with you again. How my heart is pounding!” This only made Combeferre laugh harder.

“I did not even expect you to come with me!” He was smiling so broadly that Enjolras’ remaining uneasiness fled and he smiled as well.

“Well, you did get your answer. I suppose there _is_ a spirit haunting the gardens.”

Combeferre shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. What we observed was _remarkable_ and certainly merits further investigation; there is no denying that! But the actual measurable changes were minimal – and Enjolras did not feel any difference in the dowsing rod, I believe - and we cannot base a conclusion on just this one instance. The results were inconclusive.”

“ _’Inconclusive’?_ Combeferre, my hat was floating in midair! By itself! And what about that- that _thing_ we saw?”

“There might be some natural explanation. The wind or-“

“There was no wind! It was Jean l’écorcheur! We saw his red ghost and _he stole my hat, Combeferre!_ ”

By this time, Enjolras had started chuckling as well. “Calm yourself, Courfeyrac. I thought you wanted a Romantic adventure, full of darkness and danger and shades of the dead? It seems you got what you wanted.”

“We might have _died_ , Enjolras. Died and become shades ourselves. And while I will readily give my life for the Republic, I am _not_ willing to sacrifice myself to some horrible royalist ghoul! And I _don’t_ mean Louis-Philippe!”

“Now you are just being dramatic.”

“Only _now_ he’s being dramatic?” Combeferre asked wryly, but gave Courfeyrac a warm smile all the same. “Regardless, it’s getting late and I have to be awake early for my rounds at Necker.” He grew more solemn. “We have been getting more and more cholera patients every day since a fortnight ago. It’s troubling; I wish I knew what was causing it. An increase in miasma in certain areas or something else?”

Enjolras’ humor faded. “There are things more terrifying than spirits in the world,” he said gravely. He opened his mouth to say something else, but looking over at his two friends, did not continue. Combeferre had lapsed into contemplation and Courfeyrac still seemed slightly on edge; both looked exhausted. Enjolras smiled.

“You may both stay with me tonight, if you wish. We only have short way left to my rooms.” He nudged Courfeyrac’s arm affectionately. “I will even bring out an extra pillow for Courfeyrac to embrace so he may sleep untroubled.”

Courfeyrac tried and failed to appear angry. “You are terrible, Enjolras! And to think I almost felt sorry for losing your umbrella. I will not make the mistake of being kind to you again- Oh!” He halted, holding his palm up and gazing skyward.

Once again, it had started to rain.

**Author's Note:**

> -This story was inspired by a conversation I had with [takethewatch](http://takethewatch.tumblr.com), in which we were talking about our dislike that Combeferre, whose hobbies and interests are varied, nerdy, and perhaps mildly eccentric, often gets cast as the overbearing parental figure of Les Amis and nothing else. Instead, we wanted to see stories where Combeferre’s interests are the highlight, and where he gets to have fun, irresponsible adventures.
> 
> -I deliberately flubbed regarding Combeferre’s book. “Le Livre des Esprits” by Allan Kardec (real name Hippolyte Léon Denizard Rivail) was not published until 1857 following the surge of interest in ghosts and the supernatural in the late 1840s. Unfortunately, Combeferre was very much dead himself by this time and since spiritism wasn’t as popular during his lifetime, I could not find a suitable book for him to read. Hence, I decided to bend history a bit instead (or, you could just assume that Combeferre’s hobbies include time-travel as well).
> 
> -The Montgolfier brothers, Joseph-Michel and Jacques-Étienne, were the creators of the hot air balloon, which was first demonstrated in their hometown of Annonay. Combeferre is also from there, and was named by his mother after the latter brother. Combeferre’s interest in hot air balloons is stated in his introduction, but I’d be lying if I said [sadsparties’ fic "Lift"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/896321) did not influence my own backstory for Combeferre!
> 
> -THEY’RE ALL NAMED JEAN. Even the ghost. All the details regarding the ghost mentioned here are real parts of the legend. 
> 
> -Courfeyrac’s distain for umbrellas was taken from [Hugo’s drafts of Les Mis](http://chanvrerie.net/outtakes/fragments-abc/). 
> 
> -As you no doubt have already guessed, this takes place in early April of 1832.


End file.
